Aubrey
by Angels are Watching Over You
Summary: "And Aubrey was her name A not so very ordinary girl or name But who's to blame?" - Before Dean left to get Sam from Stanford, he met a girl who would change him. It wasn't a drastic change, but it was there. Whenever he heard her name, or saw the snow, or stood behind a girl with wild curls he thought of her. For now, she's his own little secret, but is there something more?
1. first meetings

_"That's the ideal meeting...once upon a time, only once, unexpectedly, then never again."_  
― Helen Oyeyemi

* * *

Dean rolled his eyes as he pulled onto Poplar Street. Why had his father told him to come here – to a small town called Margarette, Virginia? Dean hadn't argued – he never did – but that didn't mean he completely ignored the research. It was smack-dab in the middle of Virginia, along the Appomattox River. It was an old town a few miles southwest of Appomattox, and it was rich with Revolutionary and Civil War history. However, Dean didn't see any signs of demonic omens surrounding the town. In fact, the entire middle part of Virginia was usually void of anything demonic. Surely the rich history of the town meant that there were some ghosts around, but it shouldn't be anything his dad couldn't handle on his own.

Dean pulled into the driveway of an old colonial-style brick. It was pretty nice, but it wasn't huge. He figured it was probably the size of their old house in Lawrence. His dad was already waiting in the driveway, and Dean let out a sigh. He hoped his dad hadn't been waiting long – he didn't need to give him something else to bitch about. Ever since Sammy had left for Stanford four years ago, his father's mood had been passive-aggressive at best. His dad didn't look too annoyed, though. Dean got out of the car and looked up at the house, giving a quiet whistle. He looked to one of the upstairs widows, and saw a mass of curls disappear from the window as the curtains fell closed.

"You get here okay?" John asked.

"Yes, sir," Dean replied.

John looked at him with curious eyes. "I'll give credit where it's due – you haven't asked once about why you're here," he said.

"I figure you'll tell me if it's important," Dean replied.

John nodded and said; "I'll explain in detail later, but just go along with what I say for now."

"I always do," Dean mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" John asked.

Dean looked at his dad and replied; "I said: Yes, sir."

They made their way from the driveway to the front door, and Dean was happy to see that it had been shoveled free of the snow. At least his shoes wouldn't be ruined. John knocked on the door, and they waited for a few minutes before someone finally answered. Dean smiled when the door finally opened. It was really more of a smirk, since he never actually _smiled_ anymore, but it was there. The person at the door was a girl a bit younger than him, if her face was anything to go by. She was almost as tall as he was, with legs that – he assumed – went on for miles. They were covered by a long flowy skirt, though, so he couldn't really be sure. She must have been the one he saw in the window earlier, because her curly hair was flying in every direction.

"Hello," she said with a pleasant smile.

"Hi, I'm John and this is my son Dean. We're looking for Kelly," he said.

Dean didn't know what to say, so he just smiled and nodded once. She returned his smile and said; "Come on in. I'll go get her for you. I'm Aubrey, by the way."

They both stepped over the threshold and into the foyer area, and waited while Aubrey left to get her mother. Dean stayed next to his dad, but that didn't stop him from looking around. The house was pretty big, but the decorations didn't scream _rich family_ to him. The furniture and other decorations were kitschy, and looked as though they had been collected throughout the owner's lifetime. There were some old pieces, and there were definitely a lot more occult objects than he had expected. This didn't seem like a psychic's home, nor did it seem to belong to a witch. The girl they had just met didn't fit the bill for either one of those people.

Dean stopped his judgment of the house when he heard footsteps. He was hoping to see the pretty young girl again, but instead it was her mother. She was an attractive older woman, with only a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Her daughter looked a lot like her, aside from the height difference. He mother was a few inches shorter than she was. She smiled when she got to the bottom of the stairs, and wrapped John in a tight hug.

"John Winchester," she said, "how the hell are ya?"

"I'm good, Kelly," he replied.

"And this must be your son Dean," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," Dean replied. He offered his hand for her to shake, but she wrapped him in a hug instead.

"Shall we?" she asked, gesturing towards the kitchen.

John nodded and gave Dean a look that said to follow him. The woman offered them coffee, which John declined for the both of them, and they took seats at a small white breakfast table. Kelly sat across from them, and gave them a look that was both curious and suspicious. To be honest, Dean was just as curious as she must have been, but he hid his emotions well.

"So, John," she began, "I suppose you didn't stop by to wish us a happy new year."

John shook his head. "No, I didn't. There have been a few developments in a case I'm working on. I could use your help," he said.

Hold the phone – this woman was a hunter? Why did she live here? How did she afford it? Dean tried his hardest to keep his expression neutral, but it wasn't easy. Was her daughter a hunter too? She didn't look like she could harm a fly.

"John, you know I don't hunt anymore," she said as her eyes flicked to the ceiling.

Well, there went his theory. Maybe her daughter had never hunted. Maybe she stopped before her daughter was born. Maybe she never dragged Aubrey into the hunting life like his dad did with him and Sammy.

"Kelly, I know that you don't hunt anymore, but this is important. I wouldn't ask if I didn't desperately need your help. Trust me – it's not a position I like being in," John replied.

Kelly sighed and seemed to think about it for a moment, before asking; "Why can't Dean help you with it?"

"It's your specialty, Kelly. I'm dealing with witches – nasty ones – and it's the same coven you dealt with the last time," he said.

At that memory, Dean noticed Kelly's eyes widen. "Can you be sure?" she asked. John only nodded, and she said; "Well, then he certainly can't go."

"What?" Dean asked. "Why not?"

John frowned at Dean, but he was getting annoyed at the fact that they were talking like he wasn't there. Kelly was patient, though, like most mothers are. "Dean," she began, "this coven of witches… they hate hunters. They will hurt anyone, but they especially love to attack hunters. They attack them by going after their first born child."

His dad was trying to protect him. _Why start now_, he thought bitterly. "Okay, so I can't go with dad. I'll just go find my own case," he said.

"No, son. You have to stay here," John replied.

Dean didn't question his father – especially not in front of others – but Kelly must've seen that he was confused. "This house is covered in charms and symbols. They protect anyone inside from the witches' magic. If we're going to confront them, this is the only place you'll be safe," she said.

"It's only for a week or so, son. It'll be over before you know it," John said. He always took the softer approach with Dean when he wanted to work him over.

Dean knew it was useless – he was going to give in. He just sighed and said; "Alright, fine."

* * *

Dean stood in the foyer next to his dad while Kelly carried a bag out to the car. Her daughter stood at the bottom of the steps, looking less than pleased with the situation. She kept glancing back-and-forth between John and Dean, and she was no longer the smiling girl he had seen earlier that day. If looks could kill, they'd be six feet under right now (which is totally unfair to Dean, because he totally had nothing to do with it). Kelly came back inside to say goodbye to Aubrey.

"Aubrey, please be nice, understand?" she asked. Aubrey just rolled her eyes, petulantly, so Kelly walked over to her. Aubrey was taller, but she still withered under the authority of her mother. Kelly took hold of her chin and made Aubrey look at her. "I said: Do you understand?"

Aubrey sighed, and said; "Yes, ma'am."

Kelly released her chin and wrapped Aubrey in a hug. "Thank you," she said.

Aubrey managed to give her mother a small smile, and they kissed each other's cheeks before Kelly and John both left the house. Dean was alone with Aubrey, and to say it was awkward would be an understatement. Some of her previous anger seemed to have withered when his dad left the house. He wished he could say the same for his own. They stood there until the two cars were gone from the driveway, and that's when Aubrey finally addressed Dean.

"So, I should probably show you to the guest room," she said.

Dean raised an eyebrow. He got his own room? Okay, maybe this wouldn't be _too_ awful. He could look at this as the week-long vacation he so desperately needed. He was staying in a nice house, which seemed to have food. He would be warm and sheltered, and he would be in the company of a very pretty young lady. He's been in much worse situations before. He followed Aubrey up the stairs to the second floor, and she stopped at the third door on the right.

"Well, here it is," she said, walking in. "Just so you know: my room is right next to yours if you need anything. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway, and if you wake up in the middle of the night, try to leave the hallway light on."

"Scared of the dark?" he asked with a smirk.

She didn't become defensive like he thought she would. She simply looked at him and said; "Yes. I always have been."

After that, she walked out of the room and into her own. He shook his head and looked around. It was a pretty nice room. He'd never had anything like this – not since he was four. It just wasn't fair to compare this to a motel room. The bed looked much more comfortable, and he indeed sunk down to the middle when he sat on it. There was a nice, working heater underneath the window. He was happy for that, because the last motel didn't have one. He almost froze to death in the January snowstorms. Now, it looks like he would at least be warm and fed for a week.

Who could want anything more than that?

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this! :)**


	2. bread

_"Those true eyes Too pure and too honest in aught to disguise The sweet soul shining through them." _  
― Owen Meredith

* * *

Dean knew he was being childish, but he just couldn't find it within himself to care. He was sitting on the guest bed – the amazing, cloud-like guest bed – and staring at the wall. He was determined to stare a hole through it by the end of the day. He had already been here a week, when his dad called. He thought it was to tell Dean to get ready to leave, but no such luck. As it turns out, the case is going to take longer than previously thought. Dean didn't ask why. He was just trying to resist the urge to throw the phone across the room.

To be fair, Aubrey wasn't taking it much better than he was. But, at least she wasn't pouting like a baby. In fact, she was hardly ever in her room. Like, right now, he heard her downstairs running the vacuum cleaner. She was like a little water bug – always on the move! It was tiring just to watch her, but it seemed to make her happy. She never left the house though, which Dean found odd. He understood that the house had some kind of force field around it, to protect from the coven, but he didn't know she listened to her mother's every word.

Then he remembered what she had said about her eating habits. She ate like Kirstie Alley with a tape worm, and it was mostly junk foods. She definitely had a severe sweet tooth. Dean honestly didn't mind it, because she baked so much sweet-smelling stuff that he was afraid he'd need to diet after this little "vacation".

He couldn't help but remember a conversation they had had a few days ago, and he zoned out as the memory came to him.

* * *

_Dean and Aubrey were sitting at the kitchen table. Neither one of them could think of anything to talk about in that moment, but the silence wasn't as uncomfortable as it had been. As the days passed, they were content just to be in each other's company. Aubrey had just fixed lunch, and he was too busy digging into the hearty mac-n-cheese to speak anyway. Aubrey, though, was already on her second helping. How did she stay so thin?_

"_What?" she asked, pausing in-between bites of her sandwich. _

_He looked confused until he realized that he must have been staring at her. "Sorry, I've just never seen a girl eat so much," he said. _

_She scoffed, and he realized that his comment could have been taken in an offensive way, so he tried to back pedal. "It's alright," she said, after his botched attempt to apologize. "The truth is that mom doesn't like me to eat a lot of junk foods, so when she's gone, I eat as much as I can!" _

"_What's her issue with junk?" he asked. _

_Aubrey sighed. "She just wants me to be healthy. We don't hunt anymore – hell, we hardly leave the house – so we don't get the exercise that we should. I know she's right, but I just miss cheeseburgers so much," she said. _

"_She banned cheeseburgers? That's just cruel and unusual punishment," he replied. _

_She laughed, but her eyes turned sad. He wasn't happy at the shift in her mood, so he tried different subject matter. "So, Aubrey is an interesting name," he said. _

_She smiled, and if she recognized his attempt to change the topic, she didn't mention it. "Yeah, I get that a lot. My mom named me after a Bread song," she said. _

"_A Bread song?" he asked. What the hell was bread. _

"_Yeah. You know… the seventies band, Bread?" she asked. At his blank stare, she became indignant. "Excuse me, mister I-love-the-seventies, but how do you not know about Bread?" _

_He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, they probably weren't even all that popular," he said._

"_On the contrary, they were quite popular. You know what, you probably just don't connect the name with their songs. I mean, I heard their songs on the radio dozens of times before I actually knew who they were," she said. "Promise me you'll listen to them one day." _

"_We'll see," he replied with a chuckle._

* * *

They both had continued their conversation in this manner, talking about seventies music and crappy television. She had impressed him with her knowledge of nerdy sci-fi shows, and he had her rolling with laughter at his jokes. He still couldn't believe that it had been months since she had had a cheeseburger. That was almost unthinkable to him. That should have been illegal! He was only interrupted from his thoughts when his stomach started rumbling. He was pretty hungry, but he just didn't feel like leaving the room.

Eventually, the need for food grew, and his laziness proved no match. He got out of bed with a sigh, and trudged to the kitchen. Aubrey was wiping the counters with something that smelled suspiciously like ammonia. She was so clean it was scary. Sometimes, he was afraid to spill something. Although, he wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't mind cleaning it up.

Her back was turned to him, and she didn't notice that he had entered the kitchen. He knew it was creepy, but he couldn't help but watch her. She threw the rag in the sink, and rubbed the back of her neck. Maybe all the hard work _did_ get to her. She took her hair down from the ponytail, and it fell down her back. Dean decided to make his presence known, so he cleared his throat. She turned and gave him a smile.

"Dean! Just the person I wanted to see!" she said.

"Uh, okay?" he said, confused.

"How would _you_ like to go get a burger with me?" she asked as she nervously played with the bracelet on her wrist.

He knew his expression was one of shock, because she was actually offering to leave the house. "That sounds great," he said, not willing to miss this opportunity.

"Great! I'll go get my coat," she said.

When she came back, she was carrying her coat and two necklaces. They had a strange looking charm on them. "What are these?" he asked.

"These will make sure that the coven can't detect us. They aren't permanent protection, though. We normally just wear them to go to the grocery store," she explained.

He nodded as though he understood, but really, he just wanted that burger. "Okay, so, where are these burgers at?" he asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

She laughed, and said; "There's a diner down the street. They have the best burgers in the state."

They left the house, and Dean headed towards the Impala. It had been entirely too long since he had driven it. "Uh, where are you going?" she asked.

"To the car," he said.

She shook her head. "It's right down the street, Dean. We can walk," she said.

He looked at her like she was insane. "Seriously?" he asked.

"It'll be good for you," she said.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine," he said.

* * *

Aubrey had finished her burger within ten minutes, and Dean watched her as she munched on her french fries. If Dean was being honest, he would have to say that she was very cute. At first, he didn't think that she was they type he usually went for, but that wasn't necessarily true. She had a pulse, at lease, so that counted for something. He usually went for the more petit, low self –esteem types. Aubrey was anything but. Her hair was a mass of curls, alternating between dark and light brown. She was tall and lean, but he had never been able to get a good view of her body. She normally kept most of it covered. She wasn't easily won by sweet words, and it wasn't for his lack of trying.

Dean was aware of his staring, so he tried to look anywhere but right in front of him. The diner she brought him to didn't really have a theme. It was an average diner, with red-and-white checkered tablecloths. There were only four other people in the diner, and two were an older couple who kept smiling at them like they were the cutest things in the world.

When he looked back to Aubrey, he noticed that she was playing with her bracelet again. He looked at it – it was definitely homemade, and it had a single 'A' charm dangling from it. It looked like a bracelet you'd make at summer camp.

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

She turned to look at him, before realizing what he meant. "Oh, um, I don't really know. I just do it when my mom goes on hunts. It's a nervous habit," she explained.

"Did you make that yourself?" Dean asked.

She shook her head. "No. My mom made this one, and I made one for her. It was my tenth birthday present," she said.

"Really? When is your birthday?" he asked.

"October 1st," she replied. "When's yours?"

"January 28," he said. "You know, you could make that bracelet multi-purpose by putting an anti-possession charm on it?"

"I hadn't thought of that," she said. "You are just itching to hunt something, aren't you?"

Dean sighed and nodded. "Yeah. This is the longest I've gone without hunting."

"Why don't you find a nice salt-n-burn case. There are plenty around here," she replied.

Dean nodded and told her he would seriously consider it. When he asked if she wanted to help out, she vehemently declined. She didn't want to hunt anymore. She wanted to feel slightly normal. He was going to tell her that she sounded like his brother, but he didn't want to open that can of worms right now. When he complimented her bracelet-making skills she blushed, and promised to make him one of his own. He was surprised to see her blush at such a simple compliment, but maybe that's what she liked. He would figure her out sooner-or-later.


	3. birthday wishes

_"Birthday presents come in boxes, like coffins, filled with dead gratitude. " _  
― Jarod Kintz

* * *

Almost two weeks went by, filled with Star Trek marathons and Dean's crash course on old westerns. He finally got her to admit that Clint Eastwood was the best actor of his time, and she finally got him to admit that _The Notebook_ was a good movie. He would not, however, admit that he was tearing up during said movie. That definitely wasn't what happened at all. Today, however, Aubrey was acting odd. She was making a real effort to be quiet, and Dean didn't understand what was going on. She had instructed him to sleep until noon, which is something he never did, but she had commanded it.

When noon finally rolled around, she called him down to the kitchen. He was still confused, but he went along with it. When he reached the bottom, the smell of cake hit his nose. He walked into the kitchen, only to find it empty. He was going to call out for Aubrey, but before he could, hands wrapped around and covered his eyes. He tensed up, prepared to fight the person off, until she spoke. It was Aubrey who, in retrospect, should have known not to sneak up on a hunter.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Walk forward, and sit at the table," she said.

He did as she asked, with her guiding him, and sat down at the kitchen table. She removed her hands, and made him promise to keep his eyes closed. He did as she asked, and only had to wait a few minutes before she gave him permission to open his eyes. When he did, he didn't understand what he was looking at. There was a large cupcake, with white icing and a lit candle. Next to it was a small, wrapped gift box.

"Happy birthday!" she said. He didn't know what to say, and she must have mistaken his silence to mean that he didn't like the gesture. "I mean, I know it's kind of weird, since we don't know each other too well. But it's you're birthday, and we celebrate birthdays around here."

His dad hadn't called, and neither had Sammy. They hadn't celebrated Dean's birthday since he was four years old, and out of the blue, they were making it seem like it was something special. This is what Dean had always done for Sammy, even though there was no one there to do it for him. He didn't know what to say, exactly, but he knew he should probably say something.

"Thank you," he said abruptly, stopping her mid-sentence.

She looked confused, and then a pretty smile showed on her face. "Are you going to blow out the candle?" she asked.

"Right," he said. He blew out the candle (he may or may not have made a wish to go with it). "So, how did you know when my birthday was?"

"You told me… remember?" she asked.

He thought back, and then the memory came to him. They were at the diner, and they were talking about bracelets and birthdays, and he was actually content for a change. She told him to open his gift. Remembering the diner, he expected the gift to be a bracelet like hers, but it wasn't. It was a cassette tape.

"Wow, thanks," he said.

"It's Bread," she replied. "You can thank me later."

He laughed. Whether or not he'd like the band was irrelevant. He liked his cassette tape collection, and now he had one more to add to it. "Thank you," he said again. "Really."

"I know it was sudden and all, and I probably should have asked if you even like birthdays, but—"

"No, I mean it. Thank you," he said. And for once in his life, he actually did mean it.

* * *

**I know this one is short, and I'm sorry. :( This is actually going to be a prequel to another story I'm working on. I'm also going to upload some of Aubrey's diary entries. :) **


	4. massage school

"_In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves._"  
― Laurie Halse Anderson

* * *

Dean was out of practice, and if anyone knew about it his street-cred would be ruined. He was getting his ass handed to him by the ghost of a little girl. To be fair, she was an old ghost, and she wasn't very happy. She was still stuck in the past. She thought that Dean was her father, and she apparently didn't like her father very much. He kept trying to explain, but there was no getting through to her. Currently, he was trapped inside of the salt circle, with no way to leave.

The little girl reappeared before him. She might have been pretty at one time, but now her cheeks were sallow and sunken in. Her skin was pale, and her eyes looked wild. Her hair alternated between ringlets and frizz, and her Antebellum style dress was singed at the bottom.

"Why did you do it?" she asked.

Dean was completely still. "Why did I do what?" he asked.

"You killed her. You killed my best friend, daddy. Why?" she asked.

Dean narrowed his eyes and said; "I need you to listen to me. I haven't killed anyone."

"You're lying!" she shouted.

Dean reached for his knife, which had an iron handle, and threw it through the girl's form. She disappeared, and he made a break for the door. He needed to research. He was halfway down the stairs when he was thrown over them. He landed on the floor below with a thud, and he swore he heard something crack. His vision was fuzzy, and he couldn't stand.

"Look kid, I'm not your dad," he said.

"Then you will take his place," she replied as she stalked towards him.

Suddenly, the girl got a strange look on her face. She was looking behind Dean, who was still on the floor. He turned his head to see another young girl, roughly the same age as this one. They were mirror opposites in looks, though. One was very pale, but the other had darker skin. One had blonde hair, the other had black. One as dressed in clothes that were, at one point, very nice. The other was wearing rags.

"Charlotte," the darker girl said, "please, stop this."

"Hope?" Charlotte asked.

"Yes, it's me," Hope replied.

"My father killed you," she said.

The girl nodded, and said; "Yes, and he killed you too. It's time to go now, Charlotte. Are you ready to leave?"

Hope walked towards Charlotte and held out her hands. Dean watched as they wrapped each other in a hug and disappeared in a flash of light. It was all too much, and he was losing blood quickly, so he passed out hoping someone would find him soon.

* * *

Dean was instantly aware of a pain in his side when he wakes up. He's so tired that he doesn't even open his eyes. He just lies there, and focuses on something in his hair. Someone was running their fingers through his hair… and humming. _What the hell?_ He wasn't complaining, though. He had a good idea of who it was.

"I know you're awake," she said.

"No I'm not," he mumbled.

She laughed and said; "Come on, Dean. Wakey wakey. I need to check your back."

He opened his eyes and looked at her with a smirk. "Oh yeah?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be a pervert," she replied. "Come on. You're lucky I was able to get you _this_ far into the house."

He looked around and saw that he was in the living room, on the sofa. She helped him sit up, and he winched when he felt a pull in his back. That little brat had thrown him over the railing. He was lucky a sore back was all he got. Aubrey didn't miss the face he made, though, and made him remove his shirt so she could see. She said she didn't see anything on the skin that could cause pain. She assumed it was a muscular issue, so she started rubbing his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Massaging your back, so that it doesn't get permanently damaged," she replied.

He didn't reply. He was already heading back to dreamland. "Where did you learn to do this?" he asked.

"I went to massage school," she replied.

"Really?" he asked. "Why?"

She laughed and said; "Well, it was really just to make my mom upset. She pretty much said I was going to find a profession that wasn't hunting, whether I liked it or not, so I chose one that she didn't think was _practical_."

"Did it work?" he asked.

"No," she replied, "not really. I was good at it, so she didn't oppose."

When she was finished massaging his back, they talked about the case he found. She was a ghost that had been around since the Civil War. Apparently, the little girl was named Charlotte Davenport, and she had befriended the daughter of one of her father's slaves. Her father killed the girl, and Charlotte was so upset that she killed her father in retaliation before dying in a house fire three months later. She had targeted white men ever since, claiming that they were her father.

"So, why did she suddenly disappear?" Dean asked.

"I may have helped a bit," Aubrey admitted.

"You knew I found a job?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm not an idiot, Dean. I found all your stuff upstairs, and I knew you'd be in over your head, so I contacted Hope," she said.

"The little girl who helped Charlotte move on… you sent her there?" he asked.

Aubrey nodded. "Yep," she replied.

"How did you even manage to do that?" he asked.

"I know this girl in town – she's well versed in the magical arts – and I called in a favor," she replied.

She continued to explain the entire – well known – story to him, until she looked too tired to speak anymore. Dean was a bit concerned, because he had noticed that she got tired more easily. She had stopped cleaning the past few days, but he didn't want to say anything. When she fell asleep at the kitchen table, he risked hurting his back again by carrying her up the stairs. As he laid her down in her bed, he couldn't help but notice that she looked too pale. He covered her up and turned the lights out, before staying up all night to wonder about what could be wrong.

* * *

**Guys, I'm sorry these chapters are so freaking short. I'm trying to make them longer, but I just don't know how. lol. This isn't the main story, though. This is more of a prequel to the story, so I don't guess the chapters _need_ to be long. :) **


	5. theology over chicken

_"A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you."_  
― Elbert Hubbard

* * *

Dean was lounging on Aubrey's bed as she slept. They had had a moment last night – a moment of connecting emotionally – and he didn't know how to feel about that. Aubrey's health had been spotty for the past few weeks, and Dean knew she was trying to hide how bad she felt. He was content to let her play tough-guy, until he heard her crying in her room last night.

Dean had been lying in the guest bed, unable to sleep. He couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. The house was quiet, without a creak or groan to be heard. It was almost eerie how quiet it was. He turned on the bed, and heard something on the other side of the wall. It sounded like someone sniffling, and he wondered if Aubrey had sneezed. As he listed harder, the crying turned into full-on sobs.

He wasn't comfortable with crying people – unless it was Sammy – but he had to make sure nothing was wrong. He got out of bed and went to her room. When he opened the door, Aubrey had been on the other side, reaching for the handle. She must have been going to get tissues or something. They looked at each other for the briefest of moments – her hazel eyes were filled with tears – before she rushed into his arms.

Dean had no idea what to do. He couldn't comfort her if he didn't know what was wrong, but she didn't seem like she was up to talking. He walked her back to the bed, but couldn't tear her away from his shirt, so he sat on the bed. That's where he stayed until now. She had eventually cried all of her tears, and fallen asleep. He dozed of a few times, but he was too worried about why she was crying to really sleep. Instead, he was just sitting there, twisting one of her many curls around his finger.

She stirred momentarily, and he stopped. She yawned and opened her eyes, with a confused expression. Realization dawned on her, and she sat up quickly.

"Dean," she said. "You're still here."

"Yep," he replied.

She shook her head and rubbed her hands over her face. "Oh my gosh… I'm so sorry," she replied.

He looked confused. "For what?"

"I… don't know. I kind of just attacked you with tears. I'm sorry," she explained.

"Aubrey, why were you crying?" he asked.

She shook her head and moved to the mirror. She was ignoring him as she rubbed the tear-streaks off her cheeks. He moved next to her and said; "Aubrey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Dean," she replied.

"It's not _nothing_, Aubrey. Tell me what's wrong," he replied.

She sighed and said; "I can't tell you, Dean. I'm sorry. Haven't you had a secret you couldn't tell others about?"

He thought about it. There were a lot of shady things he'd done in the past, but it was never without reason. "Not really," he replied.

She sighed and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. "Look, I'm really sorry. I've just been under the weather for a few days, and it freaked me out. I'm feeling a little better now, though," she said. He knew what she was doing – trying to sweep the issue under the rug – and he wasn't going to let it go that easily.

"You'd tell me if it were something big, wouldn't you?" he asked.

She paused and thought about it, before nodding. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I'd tell you."

"Then why don't we just put this topic in the _do-not-discuss_ pile?" he asked.

"For now," she said.

He went to the guest room to catch up on his sleep, and she went to the shower. It wasn't easy to fall asleep, knowing something could be seriously wrong. But she wouldn't lie to him about something dangerous, would she? They hadn't known each other for long, but he felt some sort of… connection with her. He thought she felt the same way, but now he wasn't so sure. One thing was for certain – he didn't want to lose this friendship.

* * *

The rest of the day was spent in an awkward silence. He mostly stayed in the guest room, and she busied herself with cooking or writing in her diary – what he wouldn't give to look in that thing…

Maybe it would have his answers. However, he was Dean Winchester, and he respected peoples' privacy. He couldn't ignore his stomach for long – which was the running theme in his life so far – and he couldn't ignore the smell of food coming from the kitchen. It smelled like fried chicken, and it made his stomach growl. He walked downstairs, and saw Aubrey putting the food on a plate.

He was right… it was fried chicken.

"Hey," she said with a big smile. Her mood was the polar opposite of this morning. "I was just getting ready to call you down here."

He nodded and said; "Thanks."

She smiled and sat down at the table. Just like every meal, she bowed her head and said a silent prayer before digging in. He ate his food too, but he was confused. He just kept staring at her, and she eventually noticed. "What?" she asked.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

She raised her eyebrow. "How do I do what?"

"Pray," he replied.

She paused and gave him her full attention. "I don't understand what you're asking."

"You're a hunter – or, you were – and you've certainly seen some bad stuff. I'm just wondering how you can believe that there's someone listening, after everything you've seen," he said.

All through his explanation, she was looking at him with curious eyes. "Life isn't all bad, Dean. Despite what we've seen, it's not all bad," she replied. At his scoff, she continued. "Think about it. If you had been raised normally, and if you didn't know about all of this supernatural crap, you'd probably believe," she said.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked.

"Well, I can't be sure that you'd believe," she replied. "But, I know that it would be easier for you to believe."

"So you've seen good?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, I have," she said. "We're the good for other people. I feel like hunters do God's work all the time – saving humans from the monsters."

"If He were real," Dean argued, "why wouldn't he save us himself?"

"Dean, there are billions of people, and they all have their own problems and tragedies. Also, He isn't there to hand out solutions on a silver platter. Parents' are warned against shielding their children from problems, aren't they? Well, we're his children… we have to learn to stick up for ourselves. Then, when we die, we're rewarded with peace in Heaven," she said.

Dean shook his head. He just couldn't believe it, but she was lucky to have such unshakable faith. "If you say so," he replied.

She offered him a soft smile, but said no more on the subject. They finished their dinner in silence, and he didn't look at her for the rest of the meal.

* * *

After dinner, Dean was prepared to head back to the guest room, but she caught his arm. She had a mischievous smirk on her face, and he didn't know what she was doing until she brought him to the living room. The VCR had been installed, and it was paused on one of the previews.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"_We_ are going to watch a movie. You spend entirely too much time in that room by yourself," she replied.

He scoffed. "You're a good one to talk," he said. He was going to protest, but changed his mind at the last minute. "What are we watching?" he asked.

She smiled a victorious smile and handed him a VHS box. He smiled at the familiar title: _The Quick and the Dead._ "I thought you didn't like westerns," he accused.

She smiled and said; "I'll give it a shot."

* * *

The screen faded to black, and Dean clicked the television off. He was getting pretty tired, and he needed to go to bed soon. He tried to move, but he realized that Aubrey had fallen asleep on his shoulder. She seemed to feel pretty awkward when they woke up together this morning, and he didn't want that to happen again. He carefully stood from the couch and laid her down. He grabbed a blanket from the chair and draped it over her.

He walked up the stairs to the guest room, leaving a light on in case she woke up.


	6. do you wanna build a snowman

_"The closest thing to being cared for is to care for someone else." _  
― Carson McCullers

* * *

It didn't take long for Dean to fall asleep after he made it to the guest room. He must have been sleeping very well, too, because when he woke up, it seemed like he'd only been sleeping for minutes. _Waking up_ isn't really what he'd call it, though. He was actually scared awake by a certain brunette resident, who decided it would be a good idea to bang on his door at the damn crack of dawn. Now, he was standing in the hallways as Aubrey rushed around, gathering things together.

"Explain to me again why you're awake at…" he looked at the clock in the hallway, "seven-thirty in the morning."

"Have you looked outside?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "I just woke up."

"Look outside!" she exclaimed.

He walked to the window and looked out. It was snowing… what was the big deal? "It's snowing…" he said.

He turned to look at her, and saw the excited expression on her face. "Yes! Come on – we're going to go play outside."

"I'm not going outside in the snow," he said.

Her face fell and she looked so disappointed. "Why not?" she asked.

"One – it's seven-thirty in the morning," he replied, "two – it's freezing outside. I'm not going," he said.

"Oh, okay," she replied.

She tugged the hat onto her head and went down the stairs. He rolled his eyes and walked back into the guest room, but he couldn't help how bad he felt. She was obviously excited about the snow – more excited than any adult should be – and he had just crapped all over her joy. He sighed and shook his head. No… no, he wouldn't give in. It was the _snow_, for God's sake… who in their right mind plays in the snow?

* * *

"_Mommy! Look, mommy!" he shouted as he ran to the front porch._

_His mother stepped outside – her belly round in the later months of pregnancy – and she smiled affectionately at her son. He handed her the snowball he had made, so she could play with him. "Did you make this yourself?" she asked._

_He nodded. "Yes! Daddy showed me how last week," he replied. _

"_Well this is very nice," she replied. _

"_Will you play snowball fight with me, mommy?" he asked. _

_She smiled and said; "I don't think I can play right now. It might hurt the baby."_

"_Oh," he replied sullenly. _

_She ruffled his hair and said; "Why don't we go inside and get some hot chocolate." _

_His sad mood was forgotten and he looked at her with a big smile. "With extra marshmallows?" he asked._

"_Always," she chuckled. _

* * *

The memory hit Dean out of nowhere, but he relished it. He cherished every memory of his mother that he could get. He remembered that she loved to play in the snow, and they always had fun building snowmen together. Dean sighed and walked to his suitcase. He pulled out a scarf and some clothes before getting dressed. It was seven forty-five in the morning, and he was going to play in the snow like a child.

He looked outside after he reached the bottom of the stairs. Aubrey was already done with the bottom part of her snowman, and Dean was impressed. Her curly hair bounced all around her, and it made her seem even more childlike. He watched her for a moment as she started rolling the middle half of the snowman. How could she be so carefree? Many people wouldn't assume she used to be a hunter – not with the way she acted.

He stepped outside and joined her in the back yard. "Looks good," he said.

She turned around, and the smile was back on her face. "So you decided to play outside after all," she teased.

"Yeah, well…" he replied. "So, why are you so excited for snow?'

"This snow is perfect for building snowmen. I didn't get a chance to play in the snow when we were hunting, but I always wanted to. I remember my mom playing outside in the snow with me when I was little," she said. "I've always loved it."

He smiled at her, and helped her put the middle piece on the snowman, before rolling out the head for the snowman. Dean was actually enjoying himself, and he didn't notice that they had been outside playing in the snow for almost two hours until she commented on it.

"We've been out that long?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yep," she replied. "See, I told you the snow was fun!"

He laughed and said; "We should probably get inside before we get hypothermia."

"Okay, but we have to do something first," she said.

"What?" he asked.

She didn't reply immediately. She pulled him to a big empty spot where they hadn't walked. It still had fresh, undisturbed snow, and she pulled him down so he was sitting in it. "What the hell?" he asked.

"We have to make snow angels," she said.

He sighed. "Snow angels… right," he replied.

He humored her after she gave him the death-look, and they signed their names in the snow next to their angels. They walked inside, stripping off their wet jackets and shoes as they did. She pulled off her wet socks, and walked to the cabinet over the stove. She shook out her wet hair, but it didn't do much good.

"What are you looking for?" Dean asked.

She pulled out a box from the cabinet and held it up. "This!" she replied.

Dean read the label, and saw that it was hot chocolate. "Wow… you're going all out with this snow day, huh?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yep! And guess what?" she asked.

"What?" he replied.

She pulled a package from underneath the counter. "Extra marshmallows!"

* * *

They spent the rest of the day drinking hot chocolate and warming up in front of the heater. Their wet clothes never moved from the back door, and they weren't overly concerned about it.

"So, did you have fun?" she asked.

"I did, actually," he replied. "But you can't tell anyone about the snow angels."

She rolled her eyes. "Have ever made snow angels before?" she asked.

"Yeah… once, me and Sammy made snow angels. He was real little, though," Dean replied.

She smiled and said; "Sammy's your brother, right?"

"Yep… the deserter," Dean replied.

"What do you mean the deserter?" she asked, before adding, "not that I'm trying to pry, or anything."

"No no… It's just that he ran off to college and abandoned us. He has a dream of being some college graduate, as if he can just leave this life behind," Dean replied.

She let him rant until the sun went down completely, and she fell asleep on his shoulder again. She was a good listener. This time, he didn't leave her in the living room. He carried her upstairs and put her in her own bed. He went to the guest room by himself, ignoring the chill that set in with her absence.

* * *

The next morning, Dean woke up at a reasonable hour. He looked out the back window and saw that the snowman was still there. He smiled and went downstairs, but there was no sign that Aubrey had been up at all. It was unusual since he'd been here for him to be awake earlier than she was. He walked back upstairs and knocked lightly on her door.

There was no answer, so he gently pushed it open, and saw her sleeping. There was something wrong, though. She didn't look comfortable, or peaceful, like someone should when they were asleep. He sat on the edge of the mattress, and her eyes opened.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked.

She shook her head and buried herself in the covers. She was shivering, but her forehead was warm. "You're sick," he said.

"It's just a cold," she replied. "I'll be better by this evening."

"No way," he said.

"What?" she asked.

"You're going to stay here and get some rest. You've been sick way too much. If you even try to do anything but rest, I'm calling your mother," he replied.

"Okay, okay," she said. To be honest, he didn't think she had it in her to protest very much.

She did as he instructed, and stayed in bed the entire time. He kept her company most of the day and even told her more about Sammy and him as kids. When she got hungry, he made her tomato and rice soup, and she loved it. It was a good day, even though he was worried sick about her. When did this happen? When did he start caring for someone who wasn't even family? He had only known her for a little over a month, so how did this happen?


	7. i'm dying

"_I'll see you in the future when we're older_  
_and we are full of stories to be told. _  
_Cross my heart and hope to die,_  
_I'll see you with your laughter lines." _

_- Bastille / Laughter Lines_

* * *

Dean had never liked hospitals. The waiting rooms, the smell of antiseptic, and the lack of color… he never really liked it, and he never spent more time in a hospital than he had to. He was sitting in the large, empty waiting room. There was no room to get comfortable, but he didn't have long to worry about that. The doctor came to get him after they performed a few tests on Aubrey. She had just passed out, for seemingly no reason at all. She had been getting better, too, so it didn't make sense.

When he entered the hospital room, he saw Aubrey asleep on the hospital bed, and pulled up a chair next to her. The doctor explained that he saw no sign of illness, just exhaustion. She shouldn't be doing any strenuous activity for a few days, and Dean promised he would see to it that she didn't. The doctor said she could leave whenever she woke up.

It didn't take long before she finally woke up, and they left the hospital. Dean did a good job of keeping quiet during the entire car ride home, and Aubrey looked nervous. She knew he was going to ask questions. No sooner than they walked through the door, Dean asked the first question.

"Do you feel okay?" he asked.

"I feel fine," she replied shortly.

He nodded and followed her to the kitchen. She sat on the counter and he stood in front of her. "He said you passed out from exhaustion, Aubrey, but you haven't done anything to be exhausted," he said.

"Dean, you don't understand…" she began, but he cut her off.

"Then why don't you help me?" he asked. "Tell me what's wrong, and I can help!"

"No you can't!" she shouted, but lowered her voice. "Nobody can help me, Dean. I'm sorry you got dragged into this."

"Dragged into what?" he asked.

She paused for a moment, and she looked like she was contemplating something, before she sighed. "You should probably know…" she said.

"Know what?" he asked.

"I'm dying, Dean," she said.

That shocked him into silence. He didn't know what to say. She was so young, and she didn't look like someone who was dying – until today… what was she talking about? "What?" he asked.

"I'm dying," she said. "That's why I was crying the other night. I had a dream about it."

"Why are you dying?" he asked.

"It's the witches," she said. "That's why you have to stay here in the house, or take those pendants with you. So that what happened to me doesn't happen to you."

"What happened?" he asked.

Aubrey sighed and launched into her story by saying; "My mom tried to take them out herself, because they were targeting kids – first-borns, to be exact. She almost had all of them, but she missed one. It was just a kid, ya know. She wasn't going to kill a kid, but she should have known that it had already been corrupted by its parents. It cursed me – the first-born of my mother – and it has a direct line to my health. It can kill me at any time, and there is no way to kill it now."

"Why can't you kill it?" he asked.

"Its life is tied to mine now," she explained. "If it dies, I die, and there's no way to tell when it's going to kill me. Right now, it's content with playing me."

"Those sick bastards," he growled.

"Don't worry," she said with a smile. "I'm not going out on anyone's terms but my own."

"This isn't funny, Aubrey!" he said.

Her smile dimmed, and she shook her head. "No, it isn't funny. It's not funny at all, but what am I supposed to do, Dean? I'm not going to let it get me down – I won't let the witches win like that," she said.

Dean thought of something before he could reply to her statement. "Wait a minute," he said. "You said that she took all the witches out but one. So, what are our parents doing right now?"

"They weren't the only witches out there, Dean. They certainly weren't the only ones who target kids. I'm sure another coven took in the orphaned child," she replied.

"So they're going to make sure all of the witches are taken out this time?" he asked.

She nodded. "All except the one whose life is linked to mine," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you at the beginning, Dean."

She left the kitchen and walked up the stairs, but he followed close behind. He stopped her in front of her bedroom door, and she looked confused. She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. He wasn't going to let her die. He was determined of that now. She began kissing him back, and it was desperate and hopeless.

"What was that for?" she asked when he pulled away.

"I'm going to find a way to stop this – don't you worry," he said.

She didn't say anything else. She just rushed into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Perhaps that wasn't the best way to express his concern, but he couldn't take it back now. He meant what he said – he'd make sure she lived.

* * *

Three days had gone by since the kissing incident, and John was finally back. He told Dean to pack up and get ready – they had taken care of the problem. Dean wanted to argue, to tell his dad that there was an even bigger problem, but he couldn't. He wouldn't dispute his father in front of others. He would bring it up casually later on, but for now he was on his own. Kelly and Aubrey seemed happy to be together again, and when mother asked daughter how the past two months went, Aubrey lied through her teeth.

There was no mention of illness or confessions, only a look to Dean that said: _if you tell, I'll kill you._ He didn't mention anything to their parents. He promised Kelly he'd take care of himself, and his dad gave him an assignment down in New Orleans before leaving for a case in Colorado. Dean took a moment to talk with Aubrey outside. Kelly gave them both a knowing look, but said nothing else about it.

"If you need me, I'll be inside," she had said.

Aubrey rolled her eyes and turned to Dean. "I'm really sorry you got dragged into this, Dean," she said.

"Don't be sorry. I want to help," he said.

"Dean, there is no help, and I won't live in fear anymore," she said.

"I'm going to find a way, okay?" he asked.

He leaned in to kiss her, but kissed her cheek at the last moment when she turned her head. He was hurt, and he was ashamed because he shouldn't be hurt, and confused because she had kissed him back days earlier. Had he misjudged her? Of course he did. He misjudged a lot of people when it came to his emotions. He nodded to himself, and got into his car.

"See ya round," he said before speeding off into the distance.

He didn't see the tear that ran down her cheek, or the way her jaw set in anger. He didn't see the pure determination in her eyes. He didn't know that _that _moment would be the one to make up her mind – to break her, essentially. He was blissfully unaware of what would happen next.

* * *

**AN; Yes, another short one. Sorry. I'm not overly pleased with this, but we're nearing the end of this fic. Don't worry though - this is only meant to be a preview to the real fanfic I'm working on. The writing for it will be much better. It's currently titleless, but I'll let you know when it's posted. Also, the companion piece to this is up. It's called Diary, and it has tons of chapters. **

**I hope you enjoy, and I really love the reviews! I wish you'd log in, though, so I can thank you properly! :D **

**Until then, thanks to all the guest(s), and Dr. Audrey and Alyssa! :D**


	8. she had been mine for a day

_And Aubrey was her name_  
_A not so very ordinary girl or name_  
_But who's to blame?_  
_For a love that wouldn't bloom_  
_For the hearts that never played in tune_  
_Like a lovely melody that everyone can sing_  
_Take away the words that rhyme, it doesn't mean a thing_

* * *

Dean was sitting in his motel room in New Orleans, working on the voodoo case. Maybe one of the older witches in the quarter would have an answer for him. They couldn't all be bad, could they? There had to be someone who could help. Dean was scanning over a few old documents, desperately wishing he had Sammy here to do the research, when there was a knock at the door.

He looked out the peephole, and saw Kelly standing there. He opened the door for her, and saw that she looked upset – very upset. There was a box in her hands, and it had Dean's name on it.

"Kelly?" he asked.

"Hi Dean," she replied. "You're not easy to find."

"How long have you been looking?" he asked.

"About a week – it would normally only take me a day," she grumbled.

"What's in the box?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know Dean. It's for you, from Aubrey," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "She didn't say what was in it?" he asked.

"She's not saying much of anything," Kelly snapped. "Take it. I have to get back home."

"Wait," he said, "are you sure you're okay to drive? You look upset."

"I'll be fine, Dean," she replied.

She left, and he looked at the box in his hands. He didn't want to open it, but he thought he should. What if something important was inside? Kelly was crying, which didn't make sense, unless… Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. _No_, he thought. He tore the top off of the box and looked inside. His heart sank at what he saw first. It was her diary, and there was only one way she would send him this. He wouldn't believe it, though. There were other things in the box: two bracelets – one with an anti-possession charm added, one of the protections necklaces, and a cassette tape by the band _Bread_. The last item he saw was a letter.

He opened it immediately.

_Dean,_

_Thank you for teaching me how to have fun again. I really did enjoy your company while mom was gone. I'm sorry I didn't kiss you. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I just couldn't live in fear of dying anymore, so I took my life into my own hands. I'm leaving this stuff with you, because I know you'll appreciate it. Just promise you won't laugh at the cheesy diary entries._

_I'll see you on the other side._

_Love, Aubrey_

_PS: I finished your bracelet. I hope you like it. Keep mine safe for me._

He was done here. There was no need to help her, because she wasn't alive to help. He swallowed the tears in his eyes, and drove to meet up with his dad. He put the cassette tape into the player, and listened to her song.

* * *

_And Aubrey was her name  
We tripped the light and danced together to the moon  
But where was June?  
No, it never came around  
If it did it never made a sound  
Maybe I was absent or was listening too fast  
Catching all the words but then the meaning going past_

* * *

He didn't know that his dad would send him on another case by himself. It was almost like John didn't want anyone with him right now. On nights when he was alone, he would read her diary entries, and he was surprised at what she thought of him. She tried to seem so brave, but she was afraid. He no longer liked witches – he no longer had hope for them.

He dreamt of her for weeks after he learned the news. He dreamt of her so often that he was certain she was haunting him, but the dreams stopped when his dad went missing. That's not entirely true, though. They didn't stop _completely_, but they weren't as persistent as they were before. Every time it snowed outside the motel room, he'd dream of her snow angels and hot cocoa. Whenever he put _her_ cassette tape in the radio, he couldn't listen to more than three songs before changing it.

He had ended up giving Sam the protection charm, because he just couldn't wear it. He didn't want it to go to waste, though. He didn't know how much juice it really had, but if it had a lot of protection potential, he wanted Sam to have it more than him.

Sam knew something was up with his brother, but he couldn't get Dean to talk about it. Even when Sam sat his brother down and _demanded_ answers, Dean kept the explanation short and sweet. He hadn't known how much he would care for her, and how much he would regret not finding an answer for her problem. Even hunting with his brother reminded him of her sometimes. The way his brother had unshakable faith, and the way she had agreed with his brother without ever meeting him.

Even when the djinn sent him to the fake reality – she was there with him. They had been happy, but it hadn't been real. It was so bittersweet. He missed her like crazy, and he dreamed of ways to get her back, but at the end of the day that's all they were. He was just a dreamer, wishing like crazy for his dreams to come true.

* * *

_But God I miss the girl_  
_And I'd go a thousand times around the world just to be_  
_Closer to her than to me_

* * *

**AN; Well, that's it for this one. I'm working on the main fic right now, and it should be up soon. I hope you enjoyed this, but don't worry. I won't keep Aubrey gone for long. I have a plan for her. I'll post here when the new fic is up! :D **

**Stay awesome everyone! **


	9. Dream On' preview

**_A/N: So I'm almost halfway finished with chapter 1. I am hoping to have chapters 2-4 outlined soon, but we'll see. I'm only halfway done with chapter 1, and it's currently 3,171 words long, so I think the first chapter will be VERY long. lol._**

**_Anyway - I thought I'd give you a ~500 word preview of the next chapter. (This doesn't start from the beginning. lol.) I told you Aubrey would be back._**

* * *

**.preview.**

He had been here a few times before, when the girl had first come to her Heaven. It hadn't changed much since the last time he was here. He came here because her Heaven was an eternal Thursday afternoon, and it was gloriously simple. Her heaven was one of the rare Heavens to have seasons. Many people enjoyed just one, but she seemed to love them all. Her Heaven also seemed to be incomplete, as though it were waiting for something else to happen. Despite that minor detail, it was his second-favorite Heaven to visit, but he never spoke to the young lady who had so carelessly taken her own life.

Sometimes, he would walk there, unseen by her, and observe. She often looked happy, as many people did in Heaven, but there were moments when she looked… confused: like she was waiting for something or someone. Sometimes, she would sit on the front porch of her Heaven-house and swing back-and-forth, and she would look into the distance as if she were just waiting. This seemed to cease when someone else made an appearance in her Heaven. Castiel was confused until he realized that their heavens' overlapped. That rarely happened to people who weren't related, and Castiel didn't rank high enough to know the reason theirs did.

Today, Castiel found the lovely young lady sitting on the swing of her front porch, and looking down at her lap. She didn't notice him as he walked toward her front porch. She only looked up when he sat next to her. Her soul was lovely and bright, and brought warmth to the entirety of her Heaven.

"Aubrey Plaskett?" he asked. She nodded her head and he continued. "My name is Castiel."

She turned to face him, and her wide brown eyes seemed to be memorizing all of his features. "It's nice to meet you Castiel. I don't want to seem rude, but what are you doing here?" she asked.

"I have come here to request something of you," he replied while standing. She stood too, and followed him when he walked to the front yard. They walked in her small garden as they spoke.

"What could I possibly have to offer?" she asked.

He sighed and turned to face her. "You, Miss Plaskett, are the last in a long line of vessels," he said.

"Vessels – what's a vessel?" she asked.

Castiel paused for a moment, trying to think of how to phrase this properly. She had been a hunter, he knew that, and he needed to explain in a way that didn't sound like possession. "Angels are walking the Earth again, Miss Plaskett," he began, before saying; "and some of them – the more powerful ones – need specific vessels."

"Like, a bloodline?" she asked.

"For most angels any member of a specific bloodline is sufficient. However, there are some angels – strong angels – who require specific vessels from a specific bloodline to walk among people," he explained.

She took a moment to process this, and then said; "So, I'm one of these _special_ vessels."


	10. hey

Hi everyone!

Dream On has been posted, and it's ready for reading!

I hope you'll enjoy it!


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